


What would you have me do?

by NTK



Series: Who needs plans anyway [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breathplay, Geraskier, M/M, Not Beta Read, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Rough Sex, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, geralt is a brute with a heart, jaskier talks but not about important things, the tiniest bit of angst perhaps, vampires are trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTK/pseuds/NTK
Summary: When a contract leads Geralt and Jaskier far away from civilisation and things don’t go as planned, Jaskier realises that he didn’t come prepared. Or: The omega’s prescription has run out and now the only alpha within 200 miles is his dear witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Who needs plans anyway [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700353
Comments: 31
Kudos: 926





	What would you have me do?

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, it’s been ages since I last wrote a fanfic. This is the first part of a series I intend to write in the days/weeks to come. It’s also my first omega-verse story. I usually don't write in English so please feel free to point out any mistakes – I wouldn’t mind getting better ;) Apart from that, pls let me know if I forgot to add any tags or warnings (I think we're good on the latter, but just in case). I will dance my happy dance for every single kudo, comment and piece of feedback – thanks in advance!  
> Alright then. For all that follows, I personally blame the highly inspiring Geraskier fanart by the amazing, way-too-talanted Lehanan_Aida (find them on Twitter) <3  
> Have fun!

“And how the hell is that my fault exactly?”

Jaskier has had it. They were at it for hours, squabbling, bickering. Well, certainly not because of him, as he just stated so eloquently.

“ _You_ lost the damn map, Jaskier!”

“Excuse you, no I have not! I gave it back to you when we last stopped by that desolated farm!”

The Witcher’s mood had grown more foul by the hour and the bard knew that Geralt didn’t believe him.

“Why do you need a map anyway? Aren’t witchers supposed to find their way out of everything? Don’t you have something like, oh I don’t know, an integrated compass?”

Any other man would have probably shied away from the look his travel companion gave him. The scary witcher kind. Apart from the fact that Geralt’s anger was directed at his persona though, Jaskier could relate. They were lost. Truly lost, for the first time since they set out on their occasional adventure together all those years back. He didn’t understand how this happened.

A month back, they had set out on the promise of a truly lucrative contract: A nobleman’s son’s abduction by the hands of a lovestruck vampiress. Of course, Jaskier had been on board as soon as he heard this – he would surely turn this kind of material into the best ballads he was capable of.

The downside, however, was that said vampire knew the worth of her hostage and must have also heard that a witcher had been sent after her. If they could rely on Geralt’s contacts, she had fled into particularly tricky territory: A vast wilderness in the mountains northeast of Toussaint. Dense woods in between unwelcoming, dark cliffs and a colourful variety of beasts and monsters.

Naturally, the majority of the last four weeks had consisted of bloody fights, misleading tracks and rough nights. But that had worked out before, hadn’t it?

“You know, I am starting to think that this might be one of your hardest cases so far. Or am I wrong? I mean, we should be on our way back by now.”

“No one forced you to come along.”

“Oh please, you never even ask me to come along like one should expect from a dear, old friend. And yet, here we are again. Only this time, your opponent seems to outsmart you. I mean, seriously, how many dead ends ago did you know that something was off? And we’re still stalking after them.”

“Jaskier!”

“What?”

“Less talking, more walking.”

“But where to, Geralt? Do you even know? She’s immortal, so she could lead us astray for however long she likes.”

“She is immortal. Her lover isn’t.”

Right. Lover. At least that’s what the witcher claimed the hostage to be. And it made sense, right? Why would a powerful being like a vampire abduct someone anyway? Why not just suck them dry and leave? The father of the man had received no demands or other messages and during the first week of their journey, Jaskier had been sure that they would eventually find a corpse. But instead, evidence of a living, breathing human were presented to them. Like breadcrumbs, leading them to… well, probably a deadly trap. But why the hassle? What did she get out of it? Maybe witcher blood had a particularly divine taste? The bard shivered at the thought.

“If you are right and the man did indeed go willingly, they should simply have spared us the pain of tracking them down by leaving a message for his father.”

“Again: No one asked you to come. For me, it means coin either way.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed. That nobleman better toss so many more coins to them for this ridiculous hike.

“Fine, fine. Listen, why don’t we call it a day and look for a place to stay the night? We can figure out where we are in the morning.”

Geralt patted Roaches neck and led the mare to a nearby tree.

“I know where we are. The map would have been of use for no more than another day. After that, the track ends and we’re on our own.”

“What? Then why were you even biting my head of about the damn thing earlier?”

“Because we lost time! The thing you were nagging me about for days!” He tossed Jaskier’s bedroll towards him with more force than needed and the impact wrung a breathless sound out of the bard’s chest.

For once, Jaskier didn’t retort. It’s true, he had been impatient. And with good reason. One however that he would prefer keeping from his friend, if possible.

When they set out together, he always came prepared, leaving his even finer doublets in a safe place, stashing away a treat for the way here or there. But it wasn’t the grime and dirt that bothered him now. Nor did ne complain that their diets consisted of Berries and whatever Geralt hunted down for them. No, his dilemma was of a more private nature. And it became more imminent by the day.

Being an omega had never much bothered Jaskier. Coming from a well-off family, he had never suffered the troubles of peasant omegas. The tales of what happened to those who couldn’t afford suppressants during their heat were common knowledge even outside of the cities’ slums. More than enough of a warning for the bard. Even during the more meagre times throughout the last years, he had made sure to stash away enough coin for what local healers had under the counter.

Thanks to his profession, everyone assumed he was one anyway. But so far, he had been clever enough to either wiggle his way around the occasional drunk, handsy Alpha or smash his lute in their face. Either way, he was glad to say that it had not been much of a topic for him – and to his relief, it hadn’t ever been a point of discussion for Geralt either.

However now, in this Melitele forsaken no-man’s-land, it might just become one. Because they were so behind the schedule for this contract, Jaskier had run out of potion a week ago. Only when it was too late, the bard realized that his last chance to purchase some more was far away with that last bit of civilization they had encountered – a village, two weeks and many miles behind them.

And then, four days ago, body and mind began to show signs. Three nights in a row, he had to steal himself away from the sleeping witcher, only to jerk himself off vigorously as soon as he was out of earshot. He was under no illusion that, sooner or later, that wouldn’t be enough…

He had taken the suppressants for years, not wanting to get an unwanted gift from a quick tavern shag along the road. His heat would hit him rock hard. A few more days and he would turn into vulnerable, defenceless and needy mess. Now, and here, of all places.

If Jaskier was lucky, they’d find that damn vampire and her human before all hell broke loose and then he could politely excuse himself to a nearby cave and let the urge wash over him. Without a mate, it would be painful, yes, but probably not as painful as letting Geralt see him like that. Any other man, maybe and maybe he’d even ask for help, but not _him_. Not under any circumstances.

“I’ll get us something to eat, you gather wood for the fire.”

Jaskier nodded and playfully suggested that the witcher should look out for something that was actually edible, like pheasant or boar. As soon as Geralt was gone though, his smile faded. Could he sort this out in any decent way, without losing his face in front of him? He wouldn’t trade time to spend with the witcher for anything. Only this once, he almost wished he hadn’t come along.

\- - -

The odds were not in their favour. Whatever game the vampiress played, Jaskier was neither entertained nor understanding at this point.

He hadn’t slept at all the last two nights and thus, his usual lively attitude had waned a bit. He felt Geralt’s gaze upon him during their meal. Barely sated after their roasted rabbit, Jaskier tried to concentrate on the campfire’s warmth on his face. Until it got too warm for his comfort too quickly. Should he tell him?

“You need to keep up if you don’t want me to drop you off at the nearest cave.”

Maybe that would be best, the bard thought. The way he’d said it though…

“I am perfectly capable of pulling my weight, thank you very much. After all, you said we’re catching up to them. So given that this time, you’re right–“

“I am.”

“Well…” Best not to push too many buttons now, the bard thought and decided to change the tune. “Why here, why now? Is she tiring?”

The witcher shook his head. “Must have a lair somewhere in this valley. Don’t know why so far away from civilization though.”

Jaskier sighed and stretched his sore limbs. “I don’t know much about any of that, but traveling with you, I suppose I have picked up enough to say that it wouldn’t make sense for a vampire to make its home days and days away from a sufficient food source.”

“Hmm.” A reconfirming ‘Hmm’, if the bard knew anything about his white-haired friend.

“So why?”

Yellow eyes stared into the flames for some time. The wolf tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Vampires do not need human blood to sustain themselves. Some chose to live of animals or even abstain from blood altogether.”

That didn’t make any sense to him. “But… why? Don’t they crave it?”

A hum. And a slight upwards tilt of the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Worse than a drunk craves alcohol.”

Jaskier just shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t make sense, Geralt.”

The witcher extended his calloused hands towards the crackling fire. “They crave it. But they are no longer willing to pay the price for their drug. They don’t want to hurt; kill.”

While he was listening intently, Jaskier’s eyes were fixed on the visible veins of the witcher’s exposed forearm. His lips went dry and before he noticed, his hands had unbuttoned the top quarter of his doublet. “Sounds almost human…”, he mumbled more than said.

Geralt turned to look at him, the half-smile still in place and accompanied by a slight frown. “Humans don’t have an exclusive right to compassion. Most actually lack it, in my experience. Are you alright?”

Jaskier straightened his pose and tore his gaze off his companion. “Sure, fine, fine. Except for the fact that we have been stuck in between these mountains for far too long and I desperately long for a soft pillow.”

“Is that why you don’t sleep? A lack of comfort?”

 _Comfort_. The bard masked the shiver that rolled through him by throwing his hands in the air. “My kingdom for a few grapes, a proper bed and a culturally-versed audience!” His exclamation left the witcher unimpressed as ever, but luckily, it seemed to hide how uncomfortable Jaskier truly was.

With another “Hmm.”, Geralt turned to the other side, meddling with his bedroll while Jaskier hastened to climb into his own.

He should’ve known that the witcher would notice his being awake each night. His heightened senses made it so he could hear an animal breathing through a dense forest; see mice from a ridiculous distance with his cat-like eyes. Like an eagle spying his prey. Of course he would see through Jaskier’s sorry attempt of playing a sleeping man.

Knowing that didn’t help one bit though and the bard could barely wait until his friend was asleep before he snuck out again. And didn’t return until the early morning hours.

\- - -

The fever started two days later.

They had just found fresh traces of the missing man; a shoe this time. The witcher growled as he threw it into the river. Not only Jaskier, but also Roach was taken aback by that. The mare neighed in protest and took a few steps back from her master.

“Now, now, who’s becoming sensitive after… oh, five weeks of trailing after an elusive target?”

“We almost got them.”

“Geralt, seriously-“

“We almost got them!”

His frustration was evident, and yet… Jaskier was trying his best not to show it but sweat was trailing down his back while they stood here. They had started the day only two hours ago and he was already exhausted. His casually leaning sideways on a tree was in fact a desperate attempt to hide that, had the tree not been there, he would be on the ground.

“Geralt. Listen to me. Maybe we should turn back. Or at least rest for a day.”

“No.”

“Why? Why are you so obsessed with a contract that, if we were to believe you, is about nothing but an eloping couple wanting their peace and quiet?”

Geralt didn’t answer at first, instead turned to gaze up the river ahead.

“For the sake of all that is good, will you talk to me please? Is it about the pay? Because in the time we spent running around like a dog after its tail, you could have slayed a dozen other monsters and made more than up for this one.”

“It’s not- hmm, fuck.”

And another minute of silence. Jaskier was sure he’d throw a damn fine tantrum if he wasn’t so exhausted. It wouldn’t be long now until the inevitable happened. His hands were sweaty. If he were in Oxenfurt, he’d have made arrangements by now. A trusted hustler; a sturdy alpha with enough stamina to fuck him for days; fill him again and again until his body was tricked and satisfied.

The thought had him swallow hard and he had to lean his entire back on the tree. Geralt was still standing next to the riverbank, hands resting on his hips. Just being gorgeous. But his posture also reminded Jaskier of the time he fished for the Djinn. How troubled he was back then.

“You’re concerned for him. For her?”

The bard was taken aback by how weak and small his own voice sounded. Geralt had heard him anyway, naturally, and turned around. His eyes went wide. Or at least that’s what Jaskier thought; he couldn’t be sure because his sight went all blurry. Perhaps… perhaps he should just close his eyes…

\- - -

When he awoke, he was half propped up against the same tree. Something soft had been pushed between the wood and his back. A bedroll?

“G…Geralt?”

“I’m here.”

Some time must have passed. The sky displayed all the right colours for dusk. Another fire was crackling a few feet apart from him. It was rather small. Geralt hadn’t strayed far to gather the necessary materials.

Jaskier felt cold, in spite of the flames. He flinched when a warm hand was placed on his forehead. The witcher was right next to him. He had set up camp and left his armour in the grass next to it. His swords lay close by under the tree. His attention was solely on Jaskier as he studied him through intent eyes.

“You have a fever.”

Jaskier sighed. He felt so weak. The musky smell of Geralt’s skin reached his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. _Alpha_. Just what he needed, wanted, and yet so far away.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?”

So many answers, so few he would admit to out loud. “It didn’t matter much. I wanted to see this quest through with you.”

“It does matter.”

“Right.” He hoped that his smile didn’t carry any of the sadness he suddenly felt. “Is this the part where you drop me off at the next cave?”

Geralt didn’t say anything. Which didn’t make things better.

“Maybe”, Jaskier said and mustered the rest of his strength. And dignity. “Maybe that’s best. I don’t want to hold you back. You are clearly invested in this contract, for whatever reason. It’s important to you.”

Geralt’s hand dropped from his forehead, but only to reach for something. A mug filled with water, which he extended to him. Only now did Jaskier realise how thirsty he was and accepted the beverage gratefully. His usual grace already failed him completely and half of the mugs content landed on his chin and chest.

“She might not succeed.”

“… come again?”, he gulped.

“In not killing him. I believe she is trying, but she may fail.”

The bard let the empty mug sink into his lap, where Geralt took it off him gently. “You really believe he went with her willingly.”

The witcher nodded. “I’m certain. But just because he wasn’t kidnapped doesn’t mean he isn’t in danger. Regis may be a glowing example of self-restrain, but very few vampires reach that point. In most cases, such good intentions end bloody.” A grim frown appeared on his face. “She is a predator by nature, even if she tries to fight it.”

“Her love may not be enough…”, the bard muttered. Oh, what great poetry this tale held, what promising compositions. If only he weren’t a complete mess right now.

Somehow, Jaskier knew that this was personal. Geralt often got involved, for better or worse. It was against the witcher code and yet, he couldn’t help himself. Pretty soon after they had crossed paths, Jaskier found that the rumours about witchers not having emotions were not true, at least not in his case. “So… what will you do once we find them?”

“Haven’t decided. Depends on what we find, I suppose.”

Despite the hazy whirlwind of thoughts that his imminent heat planted in his head, Jaskier was still sane enough to count two and two together. “The shoe… are they ridiculing us?”

“Hmm. At least we can be sure they left it on purpose.”

“Why does this remind me of your story about how you lured the unicorn with an apple in Anarietta’s garden?”

“Because that might be exactly what they do to us. For whatever reason.”

An exhausted sigh made its way up the bards throat, which was dry again. “Could you fetch me some more water please?”

When Geralt got up to do just that, the last sun beams of the day that shined through that branches above graced his white shirt, making his whole appearance look even more prominent against their surroundings. Jaskier realised how he almost bowed forward to follow the witcher’s scent and it was then that he understood that the moisture between his legs wasn’t purely sweat anymore. Shit.

He tried to take a few deep breaths, soak in the fresh air of the night. As soon as Geralt returned with the water, his presence was still all he wanted. So despite how bad he felt, he swallowed a few big gulps and tried to focus on the matter at hand. “What now then?”

“We rest.”

“What? After you’ve been hunting them for weeks?”

“What does the apple do when the unicorn doesn’t come closer?”

“It… stays where it is? Comes closer instead?”

Another nod. “Either way, I don’t think they’ll escape. Because they don’t want to. Means we have time to stay where we are until you’re better.”

A sudden warmth spread through Jaskier’s chest. He wouldn’t be left behind. Geralt wouldn’t leave him. Then, he realised what that meant, and his joy partially turned into panic.

“If you feel like he is in danger, shouldn’t you go on?”

“If her restrain was already wearing thin, she wouldn’t joke around by leaving shoes. She’d either take him away for good or strike to get rid of us.”

“But what if you’re wrong? I wouldn’t want-“

“I am not. And this is not up for debate. We are staying. Together.”

He opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t think of a solid argument to bring forward. Somewhere in the fire, a branch snapped and crackled. Geralt’s eyes were on him again and Jaskier, though it’s hard to believe, was at a loss of words.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes. What.”

“I can smell you.”

“Why, thank you very much. If by any chance you see a bathtub along the way-“

“You know what I mean.”

His heart skipped a beat. Then panic engulfed all other feelings. Except for the heat in his belly.

“I can smell what is happening to you.”

There. His charade was over. Geralt had found him out. Against all that would have been appropriate, a sad laugh gurgled up in the bard. “Well… I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“You could have said something. I might’ve been able to help.”

At that, his gaze snapped up to meet Geralt’s. “What do you mean?”

“The potion. I may not have all the ingredients on me, but we would’ve figured something out.”

A faint hope. “Could… could you still-?”

The witcher shook his head. “Too late. Your heat has already started.”

Jaskier’s head fell back against the wood. Longing thoughts; images in his mind of a sturdy white-haired warrior pinning him down and taking him. Meanwhile, the real Geralt sat next to him and pitied his sorry ass. Jaskier couldn’t stand to look at his friend. He felt so ashamed to have brought this situation on him. On them both.

There was a natural order to this world and one of its rules was that omegas were below alphas and betas. Literally. It had never affected their friendship but now that his true colours were out on display and would be in full bloom shortly, not even Geralt would be able to see him as the same man once it was over. Their friendship would likely not survive this. The bitterness Jaskier felt now soured the moment even more.

“Fine then. Can you at least strap me to this tree and make sure I don’t run off to find something to fuck me?”

A growl came from the witcher. Jaskier wasn’t sure if the phrasing bothered him or if the image it must have formed in his head disgusted him.

“Come on, you know how it is. No point in denying the obvious, because in a few hours, I will likely try to do exactly tha-“

A firm hand on his shoulder stopped him mid-sentence.

“I won’t let it happen.”

“Then please enlighten me as to how you plan on changing the course of nature.” Thank god he still had his smart mouth, although he’d rather use it for something different right now. Gosh, the thought… Sweat trickled down the side of his brow and he couldn’t help but slide his legs together for some friction. His dick was half-hard already. Fuck.

Geralt squeezed his shoulder and when Jaskier dared to look at him for a brief second, he saw something dark in the witcher’s gaze – before he turned away and got to his feet.

“We’ll find a way.”

Jaskier couldn’t suppress a huff. “Very reassuring.”

The next hours would be pure hell.

\- - -

Geralt tried his best to ease his pain. Well.

While Jaskier was writhing and tossing around, he brought him water, took off his shoes and jacket, watched over him. But the bard got worse with each passing hour and they both knew that those attempts of help were as promising as splashing an inferno with a dozen droplets. No, there was only one way his friend could help him.

“Geralt...”

It was the third time he had uttered his name; had begged him without phrasing for what. And again, Geralt ignored his pleas. But Jaskier could _smell_ him too; could smell him through the entire clearing by now. A witcher’s emotions were numbed somewhat perhaps, but that didn’t change the effect an omega in heat had on a grown alpha.

“Geralt, please.”

Geralt’s composure was unnerving. Even if he would think Jaskier to be outrageously unattractive, the pheromones should do something to him. His behaviour was unusual. How could he dry the pearls of sweat on the bard’s forehead; wipe the bit of chest that was exposed at the top of Jaskier’s shirt… How could the alpha stand this and not snap? Gods, Jaskier would even let a drowner fuck him by now. Or any other beast. Preferably one that was hung. Like a beast. The moan that escaped his throat was positively degrading. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Gathering the strength he had left in his arms, he propped himself up and pulled his weary body into a standing position with the help of the tree. Geralt was poking through the flames, making sure their source of warmth didn’t go out.

The bard’s knees wobbled as he took the first hesitant steps towards the stream across from them. Water. Cold. He needed a bath. Sensation. Anything. With shaking hands, he tried to sweep the damp hair out of his face.

“You should sit back down.”

But Jaskier only held up a hand and went on. Footsteps behind him and that intoxicating scent… “Don’t touch me.” _Touch me, touch me!_ “If you do, I will probably explode or something.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks, didn’t come closer.

“Jaskier-“

“No Geralt, no discussion. I can’t take it right now.” _TOUCH ME._

He managed to walk three more steps, onto a flat stone surface next to the quiet, flat stream. All he needed to do was sit down and slowly slip into the welcoming cold. Let it wash away the heat, the restlessness. The frustration and feeling of not being good enough. His thoughts were fuzzy and he didn’t really care if he’d manage to get up again once he was down.

“Let me help. I don’t think you can-”

“I know that!”

He didn’t care if his shout waked every living creature within five miles. When he turned around to face his friend, he was sure he looked as angry and distraught as he felt. He couldn’t walk straight but swayed a few steps back into Geralt’s general direction while weakly pointing at him.

“You. You said this trip would take us but a few weeks.” His breathing was shallow, his head was spinning. “You… You were so damn sure of it and now, now you stand here looking at me like this, looking like you do, you… Geralt, you absolute-“

And this is how far he came until the last bit of energy left his legs and the only thing saving him from a bruising impact with the ground were two strong witcher arms. Geralt lowered them both to their knees on the stone surface.

“…alpha.”, Jaskier hissed.

Geralt was so close, one hand fisted in his collar, the other behind his waist. Those cat pupils were dilated, and he smelled like raw power. Jaskier couldn’t think, couldn’t keep himself from staring at his eyes, his lips, his eyes again.

“And what would you have me do about that?”

Answering the question in his head alone had Jaskier panting. A second later, no breath would come out of his mouth because Geralt had captured it, swallowing every pathetic sound. Jaskier answered just as eagerly, opening up to the intruding tongue. His head felt so heavy as he savoured his friend’s lips like a starving man.

Somehow, they were on the ground now, Geralt above him. Fabric ripped. He didn’t care. A pebble in his back dug into his skin, slightly breaking it. He didn’t give a damn. Strong hands held him down and tore at him. Gods, yes…

His hips bucked and the friction of their cocks sliding together lured a moan out of both of them. Geralt had dealt with Jaskier’s shirt and while the bard made short work of the witcher’s trousers, his own were handled so ruthlessly by the witcher that a sane version of Jaskier would have been horrified. Not the omega though. He needed this, exactly as Geralt did it.

As soon as their undergarments were pushed out of the way, their cocks sprang free. Jaskier took the opportunity to stroke along Geralt once, grab him. And moaned at the realization that he was huge. So huge in fact that the bard was unsure if he could take him. The thought of trying though; of the witcher’s girth stretching his mouth, his hole…

Geralt breathed out audibly and one of his hands went up to Jaskier’s throat, squeezing oh so lightly, affectionately. “Jaskier… if I lose control… I don’t want to hurt you.”

The bard’s mind was hazy, but still intact enough to realise that this was important. Speaking the truth was essential. “You can’t hurt me… only by leaving me likes this. For anything else in the woods to claim.” The truth, with a provocative twist.

A hiss and the grip around his throat tightened. He gasped and his cock got even harder. “Take me.”, he choked out and looked his beast in the eye. “Take me, Geralt.”

Another bruising kiss cut him off while the alpha rolled his hips into him, sliding their cocks together, rutting against him. Jaskier softly bit Geralt’s bottom lip. He tried but couldn’t fit both of their pricks in his closed hand. The drops of precum were not enough to slick them up thoroughly and while the witcher bucked his hips in a slow, rolling motion, the slightly painful friction was only adding to Jaskier’s lust.

“Aww gods, you feel so good… more.”

He wanted to taste Geralt, have him fill his mouth, let him use it. His body however was eager to get other places stuffed first. Without his command, his legs spread and he bucked up into the witcher’s crotch. The hand on his throat made him tilt his head to the side and expose his neck, which Geralt then lavished with his tongue and teeth. Jaskier’s breath shuddered and he closed his eyes.

_Bite me. Claim me. Make me yours._

For a brief second, Geralt’s heat vanished and before he could protest, Jaskier was flipped by strong hands. His own hands next to his head, facing the ground, he felt his pants being tugged down. Once he was free of them, Geralt behind him made a frustrated sound. How he must smell to an alpha now, with his slick soaked undergarments gone and his hole out in the open…

Jaskier swallowed. He felt so vulnerable.

When nothing happened for another few seconds, he grew impatient and propped himself up on his knees. Such a shameless invitation. Geralt’s hand stroked up his outer thighs and came to rest on his hips.

“Spread your legs wider.”

He obliged; his knees scraping across the cold stone underneath him. Geralt’s warmth left a prickling sensation on his skin as his hands moved to Jaskier’s cheeks and spread them.

“You’re already so wet.”

This husky statement left no room for interpretation of how that made Geralt feel. At the back of his mind, Jaskier thought that he should perhaps feel embarrassed – laid out like a freaking door mat, begging his friend to fuck him. But he wanted him madly and was beyond caring what he looked like. He had wanted him longer than he’d ever admit and now finally-

Jaskier yelped when a wet tongue licked his hole.

“You smell even better than I imagined.”

Another whine came from Jaskier’s lips as Geralt began to suck his hole in earnest and he quickly raised a hand to cover his mouth. The witcher’s tongue probed and playfully entered him, pushing in and out in a lazy pace. Jaskier arched his back and moaned and shivered and bit his own wrist to keep quiet. This was pure ecstasy.

His cock had been neglected and still refused to go any softer. Just when the bard thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Geralt’s mouth was replaced by the much colder night air.

One of the witcher’s hands left the bard’s cheeks while the other continued to rub soothing circles into his skin. Then, two digits at once probed his hole. His body was so needy, he basically sucked them in. When Geralt had his fingers inside him to the hilt, he curled them – and immediately hit the target.

Jaskier jerked and let out a brief shout muffled by his own hand. His cock bobbed and dripped with precum. Geralt made a calming sound and continued to finger fuck the bard, stretching his slick entrance thoroughly. When he added a third one, the sensation of being opened up had Jaskier pushing back against him – only to be held back and in place by Geralt’s other hand. It just wasn’t enough. He needed to be filled.

“Please, just fuck me. Ah. I can’t take it any longer.”

Geralt’s fingers pushing in and out of him made an obscene, squishing sound.

When the witcher took them out, the feeling of being empty again made Jaskier whine. Slick and writhing, no coherent word would come out of his mouth. God, he sounded like a whore. Which was exactly what he was and wanted to be for the witcher right now.

He felt his hole contracting and knew Geralt could see it. The hands that grabbed his ass possessively and a low, feral growl confirmed it.

As Jaskier felt the head of Geralt’s cock press against his entrance, he had to bow his head. A sob was muffled by the wet stone underneath him. The anticipation was too much. And then, finally, the witcher pushed in.

Even after three fingers, he stretched him so well. The pain was exquisite. He knew it took Geralt a great deal of discipline to not just plough into him and destroy him for days to come and yet, the sensation was enough for Jaskier to squeeze his watery eyes shut and go stiff.

“Breathe…”

Geralt’s voice was strained, yet his hands stroked Jaskier’s back soothingly, making an effort to relax him. It took some time, but it worked eventually. The omega let go, breathed and slowly adjusted to the enormous intruder. When his need had driven away most of the pain, the bard rocked back a bit, impaling himself further on Geralt’s cock and making them both moan.

A swift hand grabbed the bard’s neck and while Geralt pushed deeper into him, he forced his face down to the ground. Just when Jaskier thought he was stretched and filled to the brim, Geralt sunk a little deeper. The omega circled his hips and spread his legs even wider to make as much room as possible, which had the witcher push him down harder. When Geralt’s hips were finally at the omega’s back, he felt parts of his body he didn’t know he had. His eyes rolled upwards, and he was distantly aware that his mouth hung open. If sex could be an epiphany, this was it.

The first thrusts were slow and Geralt kept them shallow, never pushing in as deep as before. While Jaskier was still high on the feeling of finally being taken, he needed more. But the alpha’s adamant grip on his neck left little room for movement. He tried to wiggle out of it, push back; anything to feel him harder, deeper.

Geralt’s next push was a punishment, fierce and bruising. It wrung a stifled cry from the bard. His throat was pressed to the stone, just enough to limit his air supply a bit and make every sensation so much more intense.

“M-More…please. Geralt-”

A dark moan from behind. “If I’d known your heat was so strong…” Another hard thrust, another desperate cry from the bard. “…uh. I would’ve taken you like this yesterday.”

Jaskier felt so weak, so completely at the alpha’s mercy. He couldn’t remember ever being so hard. This was how it should be. He had no control whatsoever and yet he was taken care of. 

The long, slow thrusts that followed were torture and mercy all in one. Then Geralt eventually picked up the pace, his front slapping against Jaskier’s arse as his cock dived into him. The omega was a puddle of submission on the ground. He had never been fucked so thoroughly in his life. All shame was gone.

“G-Geralt. Ah. Mark me.”

Nothing else mattered. He needed to be claimed. By him, no one else, only him and now. Otherwise he would die, he was sure.

“Bite me. God, please.”

He heard his own whining and didn’t care. The alpha only answered with harder thrusts and a dangerous growl. The hand at Jaskier’s neck snug around his throat and Geralt grabbed his chin. Keeping him safe with the arm around his front, he forced him upwards until his back was pressed flat against the witcher’s chest. Still thrusting deep inside of him, the white wolf asked silent permission, but Jaskier understood and only nodded weakly.

The bard heard an almost angry grunt from Geralt and a second later, a harsh pain pierced his neck. Jaskier cried out. As Geralt kept going, they both fell to the ground, the alpha on top and his teeth still buried in the bard. He kept fucking him hard and Jaskier panted and whined out of pleasure and pain.

With one last, brutal thrust, he felt the witcher’s knot swell inside him. It was this promise of being filled up that sent him over the edge. He came with an animalistic cry, painting the ground and his own belly white, his walls clenching around his mate’s cock inside of him. The sheer force of his orgasm knocked him out for a moment, but he came back in time to hear Geralt’s loud growl. A sound that would have warned the most powerful relic off of this place as the witcher claimed his prey, spilling stripe after stripe of cum inside Jaskier while thrusting into his blissfully limp and sated body.

Bliss.

Yes.

Pure and utter bliss.

It took some time before Geralt was finished. The omega savoured every second and couldn’t help the weary sigh when the witcher eventually pulled out of him. Drops of his seed made their way down his crack and legs. He was too weak to move much, but Geralt helped and turned him on his back. Facing upwards, facing the alpha, the first thought that came to Jaskier’s mind was that he was beautiful. Powerful but spent, strong but calm and at ease, framed by stars.

The wound on his neck throbbed and he could make out the faint smell of blood, but the pain was dulled by his orgasm. The sheer magnitude of what had just happened slowly dawned on the bard as Geralt held his gaze in the satisfied silence between them. A silence so heavy with meaning that he felt the brief urge to cover his eyes. He somehow had to dampen the intimacy and significance of the moment. So he put on a lazy version of his signature smile.

“How do I look?”

Geralt scanned his naked, bruised body in the moonlight and if Jaskier didn’t know better, a proud smile tugged at the witcher’s lips.

“Well fucked.”

To the bard’s surprise, the alpha lifted his ass and propped it up against his broad chest. Jaskier cursed and threw his head back as Geralt’s tongue leaped at his swollen, now over-sensitive hole.

“Stretched. Red. Spilling.” And then he pushed some of the cum dripping out of Jaskier back inside while the hand holding him up started massaging the omega’s dick.

“Ahh… and I thought I was the one in heat.”

“You are. And will be for some time now.”

Geralt lowered him back down and crawled over him, kissing his thighs, cock, belly and chest along the way until he was on eye level with him. When he kissed his lips, the vibrations of a satisfied hum went into it. In a stark contrast to how they had just fucked, this was so soft and gentle and full of affection. Jaskier’s felt as if his heart had its very own orgasm.

“Then I’m afraid I can’t let you go yet, witcher.”

“Wouldn’t want to go. We have all night.”

And as their next kiss slowly went from lazy to bruising, Jaskier started to doubt that the night would be enough.


End file.
